


Meeting At The Old Church

by cuddlepuss



Category: Balthazar - Fandom, Castiel - Fandom, Dean Winchester - Fandom, Gabriel - Fandom, Sam Winchester - Fandom, Samandriel - Fandom, Supernatural
Genre: Angelic Injury, Angelic Rescue, Choral Singing, Danmger, Haunting, Hunters, Multi, Protection, Rescue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-21
Updated: 2014-04-21
Packaged: 2018-01-20 06:16:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1499798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuddlepuss/pseuds/cuddlepuss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone seeking sanctuary at an old abandoned church hears wonderful singing and goes to investigate. What they find makes the whole world a safer place, and brings about a change in their fortunes that they could never have dreamed of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Meeting At The Old Church

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a hymn I woke up with stuck in my head a few days ago.

I paused as I passed through the nave of the old, run down church, I could hear _singing_. Singing, coming from the choir stalls. Beautiful bass and tenor voices, raised in praise, singing in harmony, a hymn I vaguely remembered from my teenage years. Four male voices, singing in perfect time and descant, bringing life and devotion back to the tumble-down relic of a house of worship.

_Let us adore….  
Let us adore…._

_The ever living God.  
The ever living God._

_And render praise….  
And render praise…_

_Unto him.  
Unto Him._

_He spread out the Heavens….  
He spread out the Heavens…._

_And established the Earth.  
And established the Earth._

_And whose greatness…..  
And whose greatness….._

__All together now _  
Is manifest throughout the whole world._

I smiled slightly to myself, as I crept forward. To the best of my knowledge, I was the only one to have entered this former place of worship in decades, and I was eager to catch a glimpse of the men to whom those ravishing voices belonged.

Edging closer, using their voices as a cover for any slight sounds I made, I peered round the edge of the ornately carved, wooden choir screen, and gaped in surprise. Not only did each of them have divine looks, but each one was also wearing WINGS!

The one nearest to me had dark hair and vivid blue eyes, he wore a trench coat over a dark suit, white dress shirt and blue, back to front tie. His pair of wings were a deep, inky black, tinged with navy blue.

Beside him stood the youngest of the group, this one had pale brown hair and dark eyes, and wore a red and white striped uniform with the logo of a fast food outlet on it. His two wings were of a dark faun colour.

He was alongside the oldest looking of the group, a man with dark blonde hair and blue eyes, his slacks and button through shirt topped by a blazer, his pair of wings a chocolate brown colour.

Lastly came the shortest man. His hair and eyes both of a light honey brown, he wore jeans and a tee shirt with an over shirt, most stunningly, he had six wings of the most glorious golden yellow.

As they started into the descant once again, I couldn’t resist joining in. I knew my untrained alto would sound absolutely awful beside the natural perfection of theirs, but I just couldn’t help myself. The split second they detected my voice, I was surrounded. They moved so fast, I didn’t even see a blur – one second they were in the stalls, the next they were ranged around me, boxing me up against the screen.

The older looking one spoke. _”Who are you? What are you doing here? Who are you working for? Crowley? Naomi? Or those bloody Winchesters?_ At this last, the dark haired man gave him a hard stare which cowed him not at all. The guy with six wings held up a hand for quiet, before leading me (and the other men) to the pews to sit down. The youngest looking gave me a slight smile.

As we sat, one either side of me, one behind, the other stood in front, the dark haired one, with his face as free of expression as his voice was, enquired why I was in the old church. I explained that for some time now I’d had a creepy feeling of being watched ….followed, and had sought the only place of defence I knew of, seeking sanctuary like the pilgrims of old. The older man snorted disbelievingly as the shorter man gazed directly into my eyes, his toffee brown stare meeting my own grey blue.

A smile blossomed across his face a few moments later, and he nodded thoughtfully while patting my shoulder. The other three, heads tilted at the exact same angle, gazed at him expectantly, while he stared back, as though a silent conversation was going on between the four.

Confused and stressed, I fished my wallet out of my pocket and looked at the picture inside it, praying to God or whatever angels might happen to be listening for the safety of my family. I was startled when hands touched my shoulders and upper arms, the men around me assuring me that my family would be safe.

I looked around me, suddenly, there was only one of them with me, the other three had just ….disappeared. Vanished into thin air, leaving no trace. The older one, sitting beside me now, said his brothers had gone to retrieve my family, and that they’d be back soon. Then he began chanting what sounded like monosyllabic nonsense at each wall and corner, before drawing strange symbols on every wall, floor, ceiling and window.

The younger angel got back first, my fifteen year old loudly unhappy and confused with him. He was closely followed by the dark haired man with my equally unhappy twenty year old. Hard on their heels came the six winged man with my seventeen year old, who was quiet content to have a strange, winged man drag her off, seemingly. He disappeared again, reappearing moments later with my husband in tow.

While the five of us hugged, the dark haired man introduced them all. His name was Castiel, the younger one in the fast food uniform was Samandriel, and the older one with the blonde hair was Balthazar, they were all angels. The other man, with six wings, was Gabriel, the archangel. Shaking hands with each in turn, my husband and I, along with our seventeen year old, thanked them for the rescue, even while still being uncertain of what was following me.

The one called Gabriel had an answer, of sorts. If you discounted the possibility of them all being insane. His idea was that a ‘vengeful’ spirit, of some sort, was out for our blood as two of our children had Autism, and it had a strong belief that such diseases were the work of Satan and we would all be cast down into the pit. Death should be hastened to ‘purify’ the planet of the scourge of such things. Bullshit in my opinion. As much as I knew of the scriptures, nothing of the sort was listed in them. The angels agreed.

So while two of them ‘stood guard’ over the five of us, and even managed to get to know my eldest and youngest, the other two went off to track down the spirit responsible. An unearthly racket outside made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end, even as the two angels sprang to attention.

A brilliant white light was accompanied by a high pitched screech, and then silence. The soundless quality of the evening was almost painful following that wretchedly loud noise, the night too dark. Our guards tilted their heads to one side in unison, just like they had earlier when they’d been communing with each other over my shoulders, then, with a nod, and a word to stay still and quiet, they were gone. 

Almost before we knew they were gone, they were back, along with the other two, one of who looked to be ….not well. Edging closer, I saw a large red patch on his button through shirt, looked like he’d an injury, a fairly bad one, to his lower abdomen. I was shocked – I’d not thought of them as vulnerable to injuries like we humans are. Nudging my way forward, I made to try and help, only to be stopped. Balthazar was shaking his head at me, obviously wanting me not to go any closer.

Calling to my husband, I pointed out that one of the angels was hurt, so he’d need to distract the girls, and then I asked what I could do to help. Gabriel, hand pressed over Balthazar’s stomach, explained about the injury, how it was bad enough to cut right through to his grace, which meant that it was going to take a while to heal, not instantly recovered like most angelic injuries. I asked what they’d done about dressing it, so it stayed clean and dry. They looked at me as if I was talking ancient Babylonian.

Hefting a sigh, I explained about wound treatment for us mortals, and how it might help support Balthazar’s vessel until his grace healed him. Gabriel, head tilted in that now familiar way, seemed to be talking angelically again, before nodding and sending Castiel off to collect a first aid kit. He returned with a kit and two men. Two tall, unimpressed men. Men that looked slightly pissed at the sudden change in scenery.

The second he saw them, Balthazar started on that the ‘Bloody Winchesters’ weren’t setting one finger on him, to which the green eyed, slightly shorter one announced that he’d no intentions of doing any such thing. The taller one just sigh and folded his arms over his impressive chest. Castiel, taking the first aid kit from the taller one, brought it to me. Rolling up my sleeves, I got to work.

As I fixed up the older angel’s abdomen, the others were talking with the men Castiel had brought along, introducing my family and calling my name so I’d acknowledge them. Once I was done, I went over and shook hands with the men, feeling like a mushroom in the land of giants. I mean, I’m only 5’ 7”, and there was both of them over 6’. My only consolation was that Gabriel was no taller than me, though I’d got several inches round the waist on him.

Anyway, having spoken of all the things that had happened and that I’d heard, they agreed with the idea of what it was likely to be, but had a different method of …..expunging, the spirit from our lives. That decided, they were once again, with their first aid kit, taken to wherever they’d come from, the hunt for the ghost in their hands while the angels kept us safe.

Gabriel, hearing the rumbles coming from certain stomachs, clicked his fingers, and a spread of foods was laid out before us, macaroni cheese for my youngest, quorn sausages for my middle, burgers for my eldest, steak for hubby and risotto for me, all of us had salad and fries as well. There was fruit, coffee and sodas too. Smirking at us around a sucker, Gabriel waved for us to eat. The other three just looked around, talking among themselves.

The younger one, Samandriel, seemed to be quite interested in getting to know my children, the way they all reacted so differently to any given situation evidently fascinating him. My middle one happy to talk about practically anything the younger angel had a mind to ask about, bringing smiles to the faces of the rest of the angels, hubby and I.

After a while, I noticed that my husband wasn’t his usual self, and swore softly to myself as I realised what was, most likely, up. Balthazar called me over, wanting to know what the trouble was, when I explained about my husband’s medical condition, he called over Gabriel, and asked if it couldn’t be ‘taken care of’.

Naturally, I thought he meant the equipment being fetched from our home. I soon learned he had a more permanent solution in mind. Nodding, Castiel went over to my husband and placed two fingers on his head, there was a warm, white glow, and my husband suddenly looked better than he had in nearly two decades.

With a pleased half smile, Castiel came over and said _”Your husband is well again. He won’t need to inject anymore.”_ Ecstatic, I wrapped my arms around him, and gave him the biggest hug I could manage. I think I made him uncomfortable with it. At that point, the brothers returned, dirty, sweaty and tired looking, but triumphant. They’d salted and burnt the bones. The spirit was gone for good.

Thanking them all, I could scarce believe that in less than twenty four hours, all the worries about my phantom follower were gone, and all thanks to my hiding out in an old church. The angels, having returned everyone to where they’d been fetched from, returned to their hymns, while the rest of us got back to our own lives.


End file.
